A Night's Entertainment At the Circus
by Shadowed Shinobi
Summary: Amidst laughter, jugglers, and tightrope walkers, Mo finds a fire-eater who just wants his life back.


**Disclaimer:** Were you under the impression that I owned Inkheart? Because if you were, you're sorely mistaken. Onward!

**A Night's Entertainment (At the Circus)**

"Hurry up, Mo! We're gonna be late!"

Mo laughed as six-year-old Meggie tugged at his hand. Her eyes were constantly shifting from one bright tent to the other, finally settling upon their destination: a large red tent in the very middle of the fairgrounds. They joined the crowd flowing into the big top, Meggie practically bouncing with excitement as they waited.

They made it to their seats just as the ringmaster was taking center stage. His booming voice filled the entire tent.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Welcome to the Sunset Circus, where dreams meet reality and all of your deepest desires can come true. We have an exciting evening for you today: Exotic animals, talented performers, magicians, death-defying stunts, and so much more! So I invite you to sit back and enjoy the show!"

Meggie leaned forward in her chair, enthralled. Mo smiled. He was glad that they could come here today. It was not often that they had the chance to do normal father-daughter activities. Traveling around the countryside doctoring ancient tomes and priceless manuscripts led to interesting adventures, but rarely left time for ballets or carnivals or other typical family outings.

So Mo watched with amusement as Meggie squealed, giggled, and gasped her way through an hour of lion tamers, elephants, tightrope walkers, clowns, acrobats, and sundry other performances. Mo had been through too much, lost too much to truly enjoy the lighthearted atmosphere and childish tricks, but it was enough to see Meggie so overjoyed.

As the show wound down, Mo could see Meggie's eyelids begin to droop. It was far past her bedtime after all. Mo was about to suggest that they leave early when the ringleader again took the floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have been wonderful! But before we bid you goodnight, we have our grand finale! It is my pleasure to introduce the mystical, mysterious, and marvelous magician of fire, the fantastic friend to all things incendiary, the unbelievable Dustfinger!"

With that, all of Mo's contentment was replaced by cold, paralyzing fear. He tried to reason with himself. It could be someone else; performers always have strange names. It might not be him.

This line of rationalization was completely annihilated as Dustfinger stepped on stage. No one else had those scars. No one else could call fire in that way, caress it like a lover, make it dance and swerve just how he wanted.

No one else had such an ill-concealed, omnipresent look of fear and heartbreaking homesickness on his face.

Meggie looked on as the fire-twirler played, oblivious to any unease on the part of her father. When the act was over, she stood up and clapped with the rest of the crowd, all weariness forgotten. The ringmaster once again thanked them for coming and sent them on their merry ways. As they filed out, Mo glanced back at the stage.

Dustfinger was staring at him.

Mo tensed, ready to bolt. Whenever he saw Dustfinger, it seemed that Capricorn and his lot were never far behind. They needed to get out of there. Now.

Meggie, however, had other plans. "Mo, I have to go potty!" She danced up and down uncomfortably.

Mo grimaced. As sweetly as possible, he asked, "Can you wait until we get back to the hotel, honey?"

Vigorously shaking her head, Meggie replied, "No, I gotta go now!" So the pair walked over to the grimy fairground restrooms. Meggie entered as Mo waited outside nervously. Time was of the essence. They had to pack up tonight. They could go home to get their things, then be on the road midday tomorrow. They would just have to lay low for a few weeks, go on a little vacation. They...

"Hello, Silvertongue."

Mo jumped, and whipped around to face the fire-eater.

"Hello, Dustfinger. How have you been?" Mo had never been great at creative lines of conversation. Strange, for someone who loved stories the way he did.

Dustfinger smiled without any semblance of humor. "How have I been? Let's see. I feel like your world is killing me a little bit each day. I look around and nothing feels right. Your fire doesn't really talk, just hisses and crackles and growls like an animal. I feel out of place in your cities of metal and cold fire. The closest thing I have to a home is Capricorn's hideout, a den of murderers and thieves. And I am stuck here, away from my wife, my children, and my life, because of you. But besides that, I'm fine. How are you?"

This was why Mo hated seeing the other man. He hated seeing the pain he had caused. He knew that this conversation would be just like all of the others, scattered throughout the years.

_What do you want?_

_Send me home._

_I can't..._

_Please, send me home._

_I don't know how._

_Send me home!_

Mo said nothing, just looked deep into Dustfinger's eyes. The pain he saw there made him feel so many overwhelming emotions: pity, shame, self-loathing, protectiveness, and a variety of other emotions that he could not identify and that probably would not be very pleasant even if he could identify them.

"Dustfinger, I..."

Whatever Mo had been going to say was interrupted by Meggie emerging from the restroom. At the sight of Dustfinger, her eyes widened to saucer-like proportions. "You're the fire guy," she breathed.

Dustfinger gave a small, sad smiled. "Yes, I am. Did you enjoy the show?" Meggie nodded enthusiastically. "You know, I have a daughter around your age. I have a special trick that always made her smile. You want to see?" More nodding. Dustfinger, with an immense look of concentration on his face, summoned up a small bough of flame. After a few more seconds, he had shaped it into a perfect rose. Meggie let out a delighted squeal. "I'm glad you like it. I haven't gotten to see my little girl in a long time, and I really miss her. You remind me of her, a little bit."

Mo wrapped his hand gently around Meggie's wrist. "We have to go now, sweetheart." Ignoring her protests, Mo turned to Dustfinger. He pulled out a business card and offered it to the fire-eater. "If you... if you ever need anything, anything except for _that_, give me a call. I'll do whatever I can."

Dustfinger made no move to take the proffered card. He just nodded in that same heartrendingly sad way. "That's kind of you, Silvertongue. But if I can't go home, nothing else matters. I've been through too much, lost too much." With that, he walked away, leaving Mo with his arm extended foolishly.

At Meggie's questioning look, he just kissed her on the forehead. "Come on. Time to go." So they went back to their today-home, the place where they would sleep that had no meaning for Mo. Because, like Dustfinger, his home was trapped inside the pages of a book, unable to get out.

Unable to find her way back to him.

* * *

I hope you liked my little story. My goal this year is to post a story each week, so check back every so often for new stuff! Please review, because I'd love to hear from you!

Shadow


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